


Pop Music, as Promoted by a Guy with Horns and a Goat’s Ass

by Loki_is_on_crack



Category: Pop Music RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Crack, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-14
Updated: 2011-04-14
Packaged: 2018-07-13 23:28:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7142567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loki_is_on_crack/pseuds/Loki_is_on_crack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>When musicians make deals with the devil, their souls aren't always the price.</p>
          </blockquote>





	1. Pop Music, as Promoted by a Guy with Horns and a Goat’s Ass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When musicians make deals with the devil, their souls aren't always the price.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _"I think pop music has done more for oral intercourse than anything else that has ever happened, and vice versa."_ \-- Frank Zappa
> 
> This is the sort of fiction that gets written by a person who works in retail, who is forced to endure [The Blend](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Blend_%28Sirius_XM%29) on Sirius XM, eight fucking hours every fucking day for fucking months on fucking end... until he completely fucking snaps. (I also wrote this five years ago, so no doubt other performers have taken the places of the ones depicted here. I wouldn’t know. I'm no longer in retail, and my current job doesn’t torture its employees with this shit.)
> 
> I probably won't write anything like this again. It's much easier not to hate irritating pop musicians when you don't have to listen to their irritating pop songs several times a day.

"Hello, John. So, you've got this song called ‘[Heartbreak Warfare](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yGEdukHtTsc)’ on the air. Unfortunately, it’s kinda terrible. Worse, you're trying to promote yourself as a bad boy, but you've only managed to portray yourself as a douchebag, and a _boring_ douchebag at that. And yet, your song remains in heavy rotation. You know why that is, right?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Please, don't be so formal. We're on first name terms now. Call me Satan. And you know what you have to do to keep your song in heavy rotation, right?"

"Yes. Satan."

(Insert sounds of much slurping and infernal moaning and groaning, followed with a few "oh, gods." Yes, the Devil screams "oh, god" during. Why wouldn't he? Though that does bring up the question of what God might scream during... but I digress.)

"Thank you John. You've definitely earned it this time. Same time next month?"

 

"Hello, Christina. I see you have this song called ‘[Jar of Hearts](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8v_4O44sfjM)’ on the air, and you've tried to make it about a guy you hate trying to hook up with you again. Unfortunately, it's kinda terrible. 'You're gonna catch a cold?' 'Who do you think you are?' You sound like a whiny angst-ridden mother trying to scold an unruly child. And yet, your song remains in heavy rotation. You know why that is, right?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Why does everyone call me that? Is 'Satan' really so difficult to pronounce? And really, I never wanted this throne in the first place! Anyway, you know what you have to do to keep your song in heavy rotation, right?"

"Yes, Satan."

(Insert more sounds of much slurping and infernal moaning and groaning, followed with a few more "oh, gods" at the finish.)

"Thank you Christina. ~~John Mayer was much better~~. Same time next month?"

 

"Taylor Swift? You're in a little early, don't you think? You were just here last week!"

"Hi, Dev, whassup? I have four songs in heavy rotation, and I want to keep them there."

"Four? Oh, yes, I'd forgotten. I really need to hire a secretary. I should have one of my junior demons get me Kanye's resume..."

"Less talking, more unzipping."

"...but that can wait. Anyway, since you're so eager to get started..."

 

"Hello, Elton. You've got this really annoying song called ‘[Blessed](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6CCsODb6D0g),’ in heavy rotation. You know why that is, right?"

"Yes, sir. Because I'm a name, I can sing without autotune, and I can actually write."

"I'm afraid so. Damned loopholes. Anyway, that particular loophole only gives you a year for that particular song. After that, if you want that song to keep playing in heavy rotation, you'll have to earn it with blowjobs like the rest of those losers who come into my office."

"In your dreams, sir. I'll have written another hit single by then."

"We understand each other, then. As always. Good day, sir."


	2. Pop Music, and the Devil's Slow Descent into Madness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When musicians make deals with the devil, their souls aren't always the price.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Six years ago, I wrote some nasty fiction about musicians I was sick of hearing. Three years ago, I thought I would never write a piece like it again. One year ago, I transferred to a job where the same list of “relaxing favorites” is played on the radio, day after day, for months at a time. One month ago, the battery in my MP3 player died (I've since replaced it), and I therefore had to hear the gym’s music instead of my own when I worked out. And yesterday, I fucking snapped.
> 
> (As of this writing, I'm not sure what Satan sounds like. I've narrowed it down to either [Tim Curry](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gbknz3pcfPQ) or [Andy Hamilton](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7PcWd9quOKU).)

“Hello Colson, Camila. You two have this song called ‘[Bad Things](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4cauU2IpFyA)’ on the air. Unfortunately, it’s kinda terrible. One of you sounds like you’ve just discovered valium; one of you sounds like you’ve just discovered helium balloons. And yet, your song remains in heavy rotation. You know why that is, right?”

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Yes, Your Highness."

“You don’t need to call me that. Satan is fine. You both know what you have to do to keep your song in heavy rotation, right?"

"Yes. Satan."

(Insert wet slurping sounds here.)

“Camila, you don’t have to wait your turn. You can both entertain me at the same time.”

“♫ No matter what you say, ♫ no matter what you do, ♫ you make me wanna do bad things to you...♫”

“Stop that. If I wanted to hear you people sing down here, your contracts wouldn’t be so clear about requiring blowjobs. What I _meant_ is that I have plenty of cock for both of you at once. Get to work.”

 

“Hello, Hailee. You have this song called ‘[Starving](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xwjwCFZpdns)’ on the air. It’s a terrible song, even compared to the usual drek that gets me to give contracts to musicians for exposure. In fact, when I first saw your lyrics, I was shocked. And I’m the Devil; it takes a lot to shock me. Admit it: you wrote this song just to get my attention!”

“Yup.”

“I feel like I’m losing control of my life.”

“But you’ll still give me fame for monthly visits, right?”

“Yes. But when you get back topside, warn all your friends that if another musician writes a bad song about wanting to taste me to get my attention, I'm spraying my cock with denatonium benzoate first.”

“What’s that?”

“The chemical on the new Nintendo games that makes them taste bad.”

“I’ll tell them. I just wish they told me how big you are.”

“I’m the Devil; you really can’t be that surprised¹. Anyway, since you’ve gone to the trouble of writing a song just to get my attention, you must be eager to get started...”

 

“Hello, Kanye. Do you know why you’re here?

“Because Bush still has a grudge against me for saying he didn’t care about black people. He had me shot, right?”

“No, actually. You’re still alive. In fact, I’m offering you a job. I offer heavy radio rotation to musicians who otherwise wouldn’t get it, and in return, they provide me monthly ‘services.’ My schedule has become a little unwieldy, so I need help in managing it, as well as finding more musicians willing to make deals for fame. You do that for me, and I pay you very well.”

“Sure. How about Taylor Swift?”

“She comes down here once a week already.”

“Beck?”

“He wasn’t interested.”

“Did you try to get Beyonce down here? Because if you did, I’m’a walk right now.”

“She does fine without my help.”

“Okay. How about Pink?”

“I sent one of my agents to approach her once. He got kicked in the groin.”

“Okay, I’ll think of someone.”

 

“Hello, George. My new secretary tells me you’ve got this really old song called ‘[Careless Whisper](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=izGwDsrQ1eQ)’ on the air. As you know from our dealings topside, you get one year of airplay when the song first comes out -- after that, you have to earn airplay with monthly services, or get another song on the air.”

“What’s that got to do with me?”

“Careless Whisper was released in 1984. It’s been well over a year.”

“Actually, I found a loop-hole in your contract. Shortly before I died, I provided ‘services’ to Tim Miller, Rhett Reese, and Paul Wernick. They were working on a movie at the time.”

“Oh, really.”

“Yep. Section 5, clause 3. I offered to include Ryan Reynolds in that deal as well. I didn’t have to, but of course I offered; he’s Ryan fucking Reynolds. Sadly, he declined. So did Ed. But I gave three blowjobs to the powers that be, so that’s enough to satisfy your fine print.”

(Rustling of papers.) “...God damnit.”

“And even better, some time in the future, [this young man](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GaoLU6zKaws) is going to be giving _me_ ‘services’ when he comes down here.”

“Hmmph. Well played. Good day, sir.”

“I did learn from the best.”

 

* * *

 

  1. Yes, Satan has a very big cock. This has been canon since at least Pope Innocent VIII. If you're going to write bad music, you should be aware of this.




	3. Pop Music, or How Depressed can you be Despite Getting Hundreds of Blowjobs Every Week

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When musicians make deals with the devil, their souls aren't always the price.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “All your relaxing favorites. Your no-repeat workday. Relaxing favorites while you work. No-repeat workday.”
> 
> It’s tolerable for one day. Then, the next day, you get another no-repeat workday... which is a song-for-song repeat of the previous no-repeat workday. For months at a time, I've been hearing this shit. It’s enough to make a crack-fic writer speculate as to how those songs got into constant rotation...!

“Hello, Christina. You have this tedious whine-fest called ‘[A Thousand Years](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rtOvBOTyX00)’ being played in heavy rotation. As we’ve had a contract before, I trust you already know why you’re here.”

“Yes, your Highness.”

“We’ve been over this; call me Satan. Anyway, you know what you need to do to keep your song in the top forty-whatever, right?”

“Yes, your... yes, Satan.”

“Well, this is the last song you’re getting that contract with. If I have to get another one of your tedious whine-fests on the radio, I have a spraycan of denatonium benzoate with you name on it. No, put your phone away. You can google that later, when you get back topside. For now, you have work to do.”

 

“Hello, Michael. Thanks to our new contract, you have multiple [songs](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PivWY9wn5ps) being [played](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zi_XLOBDo_Y) in heavy [rotation](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5X-Mrc2l1d0) \-- a pretty impressive feat, considering you've been dead for eight years. I trust you’ve read and signed the contract and know what you have to do to maintain your place on the playlist?”

“Yes. Your contract should have mentioned how big your penis was, though.”

“I’m the Devil, that’s common knowledge. Or it ought to be. But really...”

(At this point, Satan makes a very explicit, rude, and pointed comment about the newly undersigned’s experience with penises, to the effect that when the undersigned was topside, his experience was generally limited to penises _much_ smaller than Satan’s. Your Humble Author has decided to merely allude to this comment rather than reproducing it verbatim, because despite writing hatefic about musicians he’s sick of hearing every day, he has standards. Honestly, your Humble Author is kinda afraid of going to Hell just for _alluding_ to what Satan said.)

 

“Good morning, Kanye. What do you have for me today?”

“Phil Collins. He hasn’t seen ya in years, and he still has lots of music on the radio. I’ll forward it to collections.”

“No, don’t bother.”

“Wait, what? He owes you big time, and you’re not dragging his ass down here?”

“No. He’s going to Heaven when he dies, so they can put up with his music... for want of a better noun. It all started about thirty-seven years ago...”

“Is this a flashback?”

“Very perceptive of you, as always. Back then, for the most part, recording artists who wanted a contract with me were encouraged to allow me to have penetrative sex with them, as opposed to providing oral sex as they do now. So there I was, plowing his ass like an overclocked oil derrick, and I decided to smack his ass a little bit.”

“Aw, man, I don’t wanna hear this.”

“He made a song about it. How he could feel me coming in the air tonight. He took the sound of me smacking his ass, and turned it into the [most pitiful drum solo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YkADj0TPrJA&t=3m16s) in the history of drum solos. Later, he’d add lyrics inspired by his ex-wife. At that point, I stopped suggesting penetrative sex as an option. Fifteen years or so later, when Auto-Tune was invented, I started explicitly requiring blowjobs...”

“You have a very sad life.”

“Don’t I know it.”

 

“Hello, Celine. Lately, you have this [really annoying song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FHG2oizTlpY) on the air. It's over twenty years old.”

“...and?”

“You know the rules. One year on your own, and then after that, you have to earn it with blowjobs.”

“Oh, you haven't heard about the Twentieth Anniversary of Titanic?”

“...God fucking dammit.”

“I have defeated you with your own loophole, Satan. Eat me.”

“...what the hell, that might be a nice change. Let me just get some earplugs first, in case you start singing...”


	4. Pop Music, or The Key to Fixing a Broken Social Dynamic is Obviously Adding More People

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When musicians make deals with the devil, their souls aren't always the price.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A month ago, it was “all your relaxing favorites, on your no-repeat workday.” Two weeks ago, someone changed the radio station. Now it’s Hip, Hop, R, and/or B. “All the hottest hits!” Bullshit. More like ten of the alleged hottest hits, played over and over until you’re wishing death on either the singers, the radio station, or yourself.
> 
> (One of these days, I’m going to forget to browse incognito when looking for bad songs on YouTube so that I can provide links in this story. My history is going to look _very_ weird the day that happens...)

“Hello, Gary, Nuno. You have this annoying snore-fest called ‘[More than Words](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UrIiLvg58SY).’ It’s over twenty-five years old, and it’s just as annoying now as it was when it was first released. And yet, it remains in heavy rotation. You both know why that is, right?”

“Yes, your Highness.”

“Yes, your--”

“For God’s sake, we’ve been over this. Call me Satan. Do I need to wear a name-tag? Anyway, for all your song’s vapid pleasantness, the lyrics are about aggravating your girl into giving you a handjob so that you’ll shut the hell up. Fitting, considering what you’ve been doing for the past several years to keep it on the radio. Anyway, it’s been a month.”

“Why is it only the two of us down here? There’s a whole band of us--”

“You ask that every time you’re here. It’s because only you two wrote it, and only you two performed it. Now get to work.”

(At this point, Gary and Nuno perform an X-rated rendition of that scene with the spaghetti from Disney’s _Lady and the Tramp,_ each starting at one end and both meeting in the middle, with Satan standing in for the spaghetti.)

 

“Hello, Abel. You have [these](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=34Na4j8AVgA) two [songs](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qFLhGq0060w) on the radio. Unfortunately, they’re kinda terrible. Your falsetto and audio processing make you sound like Michael Jackson fucked a robot and you were the result. But now that I give it some thought...” 

(At this point, Satan makes a few very brutal comments about how it would have been much better for everyone concerned if, instead of his actual exploits, Michael Jackson _had_ had access to a robot. As with most of Satan’s comments about Michael Jackson, the mere thought of reproducing them here makes your Humble Author fear for his quality of afterlife, so you’ll have to make do with this allusion.)

“...but I digress. Despite your songs being terrible, they’re getting constant airplay. You know why that is, right?”

“Yes, your Majesty.”

“Oh, for... one of these days, I’m going to add a line to the standard contract requiring signees to call me Satan. Not that it will help. But seriously, we’re business partners of a sort; the formality is uncalled for. Anyway, you know what you need to do twice a month to keep those songs in rotation, right?”

“Yes, Satan.”

 

“Good morning, Kanye. Who do you have for me today?”

“Another old account. Madonna is getting lots of airplay, some of it for old-ass songs, and she never visits you. I’ll pass her name to collections.”

“Oh, no, there’s no need. Her account is fully balanced.”

“What? How the hell did she do that?”

“You might have heard one of the theories about her song ‘[Like a Virgin](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s__rX_WL100)’?”

“Yeah. It’s about a girl who’s had hella dicks, but then she has a guy who’s got a dick like a Pringles can, and it’s like losing her virginity all over again.”

“That’s not too far off. It’s about a _former angel_ who’s got a dick like a Pringles can. And this was back in the days when I actually had sex with performers for airtime. She took the whole thing like a champ.”

“So you’re letting her off because you’re all sentimental and shit?”

“No, it’s not that. If it were, we might meet more often. She closed that door, though. When she wrote that song and it charted, it technically qualified as spreading my fame and glory on Earth. As long as that song is famous on Earth, she’s met her obligations, and can’t come here as long as she lives. To both my chagrin and hers.”

“That’s... almost romantic. For you, at least.”

 

“Hello, Luis. You have this song called “[Despacito](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kJQP7kiw5Fk)” on the radio. Unfortunately, it’s kinda terrible... and yet, it’s in constant rotation. There are radio stations that play it ten times a day. Or more. You know why that is, right?”

“Because it’s a really good song?”

“Oh, you sweet summer child¹. Or maybe you’re just being sarcastic. I don’t care at this point. But you signed the contract, so you obviously know what you need to do for the continued heavy rotation.”

“Yes, your Highness.”

“Call me Satan. Everyone else does... or should. Now, show me how you do it in Puerto Rico...”

 

* * *

 

  1. Yes, Satan follows Game of Thrones. Being Satan, Prince of Evil and all that shit, he’s rooting for Cersei.




End file.
